


Weekend at Pidge's

by chocolatemoosey



Series: Space Shenanigans and Other Misunderstandings [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Decapitation, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Galra Keith, Genderfluid Character, Gore, Hostage Situation, Humor, Implied Torture, Interrupted Sex, Kidfic, M/M, Mpreg, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Violence, Xenobiology, assassination attempt, babysitting gone TERRIBLY WRONG, dirty talking in a foreign language, everyone is in their late 20's/early 30's, female-identifying genderfluid Pidge, implications of sexytimes, keith and shiro are married, keith and shiro are wonderful parents, roleplaying, she/her pronouns for pidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:52:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatemoosey/pseuds/chocolatemoosey
Summary: Keith took Shiro gently by the jaw and pulled him into a kiss, “She’s fine. Hunk and Lance are there with her – between the three of them, I think things are gonna be okay.” 
   Meanwhile, at the other paladins' house: “THINGS ARE DEFINITELY NOT OKAY." Pidge, Lance, and Hunk have offered to watch Keith and Shiro's toddler for a night while the couple celebrates their anniversary. Add a hostage situation to the mix and things go about as well as expected.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> So when I posted Mr. Seahorse, a few of you seemed interested in the idea of Shiro and Keith having a family -- so I decided to indulge you all a little by throwing myself headfirst into one of my favorite guilty pleasures. I need kidfic like I need air.
> 
> For those of you just tuning in, this is the third part of a series, but you don't have to read the first two fics to make sense of this. tl;dr In the first story Shiro and Keith get fake married by bees, and in the second story Lance is convinced Keith got pregnant, but he was just on birth control.
> 
> Also, Shiro and Keith's child is genderfluid; I did my best to represent this in a respectful manner, but if I have made any errors or said anything offensive, please let me know so I can correct it, thank you!
> 
> Just a final note, the paladins are in their twenties/thirties at the point in time that this fic takes place, so everyone is the age of consent!

                Keith pressed close to the wall, nocturnal eyes scanning the darkened room. The smallest sliver of light crept through the cracks of the nearest door, catching the yellow eyes of the creature creeping in the dark and setting them alight with an eerie feline glow. Keith slipped back around the corner he’d slid around, cursing his own Galra eyes – even though his target’s position had been betrayed, his had been made clear as well.

                There was a soft scampering as they changed positions, and Keith utilized his Altean blood immediately. Shifting his eyes back to their old human form, he scanned the surrounding room. The trick might have obscured him, but it greatly diminished his ability to see in the dark. But, it appeared his target had utilized the same trick and was just as invisible to Keith as he was to them.

                Without visual aid, Keith closed his eyes, attempting to hone in on the sound of them moving around – as they made to dash across the room, they emitted a tiny giggle under their breath. Keith grinned toothily.

                He crouched low to the ground and waited for his target to pass the corner he was hiding behind. Patient, he remained still as they edged nearer and nearer – only to spring when they were right within his grasp. Keith grasped the creature around the middle, standing and twirling them upside down in order to disorient them – the sound of shrieking laughter filled the living room.

                “Gotcha!” Keith laughed, swinging them around purposefully.

                “Noooooo!” the toddler squealed, kicking their little legs in his grasp. Still grinning, Keith spun his child upright and pressed a loud kiss to their cheek.

                “Oh no it’s so terrible!” he bemoaned in a sarcastic voice, spinning them around and reveling in the delighted laughter his child produced in response. “Captured again by the evil alien!”

                “Daddy, noooo! Pumme down! Down!” the toddler demanded, still squiggling around desperately.

                “I’ll think about it,” Keith mused before blowing a raspberry into their cheek; they shouted another laugh in response. “ _If_ you say the magic word.”

                “Pleeeeease?” they quipped sweetly. Keith smiled and set them back down on the floor. The toddler sprinted to the coffee table and palmed the remote that activated the lights. Keith winced as it stung at his sensitive eyes and he blinked around at the living room, willing them to adjust. It was remarkably cleaner than it had been that morning, his child’s toys confined to their play mat in front of the TV. Whenever he had the chance, Keith liked to maintain the illusion that he was much more in control of the cleanliness of his and Shiro’s house than they actually were.

                It was surreal living a domestic life – even more surreal having a tiny person that was half-him and half-Shiro running around in their townhome. After having been bounced around from foster home to foster home and spending his subsequent adult years in space, Keith never imagined that something like this was obtainable – he’d never imagined having his own family.

                Ten years had passed since the paladins’ initial foray into space, and seven since their final showdown with Zarkon. The following two years had been spent dealing with the fallout of the Galra Empire and the civil wars and wars of independence that had resulted. Even now, they were still dealing with those – but the expansion of the Voltron Alliance that came in the wake of the Galra Empire’s fall had ended up taking a huge amount of responsibility off of the Paladin’s shoulders. And so, Voltron had gone into partial retirement, the paladins only taking up their mantle when circumstances became dire enough.

                Keith – due to his surprise genetics – had ended up as the ambassador to the Galra’s home planet Gal, which he found to be an incredibly stupid and difficult idea due to his propensity to act before he spoke. After a particularly nasty spat with the remaining aristocracy, it was decided that Shiro would become Keith’s co-ambassador. As such, the pair made political decisions together, and Shiro did the talking.

                But co-ambassador wasn’t Shiro’s only job. As unfortunate as it was, the paladins of Voltron could not continue to operate on their own. It was deemed impossible to maintain such a scope as the _entire universe_ , and thus the remains of Galaxy Garrison had been combined with the best pilots and fighters the universe had to offer and formed the Voltron Alliance Fleet – which was less of a fleet as it was an entire army – which Shiro had effectively become Grand General of.

                However, almost five years earlier, a drastic turn of events had completely changed his involvement with the military, and Shiro now acted as an advisor of sorts to the Fleet, in addition to his duties as ambassador.

                “Holy shit. We’re having a baby,” Keith had said flatly, as he and Shiro stared at the positive pregnancy test sitting on the bathroom counter. Never had a plastic stick covered in piss been to utterly life-changing.

                “Would this be a good time to propose?” Shiro had asked, and Keith had burst into laughter and kissed him until they couldn’t breathe.

After having been dating for eight years and being fake-married for six of those years, their wedding had been a long time coming. It was a very small ceremony, with no one but Team Voltron, Pidge’s family, and Shiro’s grandparents in attendance. Allura and Coran were the first to know, Keith immediately asking for a leave of absence from his position of red paladin as soon as they had found out. No one questioned the reasoning behind the sudden nature of their wedding, but several weeks later Lance had made a quip at Keith to “lay off the Cheetos” (and ended up almost getting throat punched in response) and the couple had come clean to their friends.

                Naturally, Hunk had cried, Lance was completely blindsided, and Pidge laughed at them.

                “If I’d known it was _that_ kind of wedding, I would’ve brought a shotgun,” she’d snorted.

                “I’m going to be an Uncle!” Hunk wailed, squeezing Keith tightly to his chest.

                “ _I was fucking right,_ ” Lance whispered, eyes huge. “ _I was right all along_.”

                Keith and Shiro were beyond lucky that Keith’s pregnancy had been extremely easy. Shiro was incredibly anxious that his genetics might have proven to be problematic, due to the fact that one of his mothers’ pregnancies had resulted in a stillbirth. But the baby came right on time, perfectly healthy and the most beautiful, precious thing that Keith and Shiro had ever seen.

                “Let’s use the kanji for true – ma – and the kanji for rare – koto,” Shiro suggested as they poured over an online dictionary.

                Keith looked down at the baby nestled in the crook of his arm, blurry yellow eyes blinking up at him and Shiro.

                “Makoto. What do you think of that name?” Keith asked, pressing a kiss into the patch of grey hair that covered their head, flanked by tiny purple ears. The baby stretched their mouth into a yawn, bearing a tiny pair of barely-protruding fangs and proceeded to stare up at their parents in unfocused shades of gold.

                “I don’t think that was a no?” Shiro laughed, kissing them as well.

                Unfortunately, Makoto proved to be as much of an insomniac as their parents, and the next several months of their lives was a colic-fueled hell.

                “Please stop crying,” Shiro begged, slumped up against the wall beside Makoto’s rocker. Keith was propped up on the other side, looking halfway unconscious. Makoto had been screaming for the past two hours and both parents had complete exhausted their bag of tricks, which usually proved to get them to calm down. Shiro had probably put about two hundred miles on the car in the past week in attempts to get them to stop crying.

                “Did you ever think it was going to be like this?” Keith asked, crawling over onto the other side of the rocker and propping himself up against Shiro’s shoulder.

                “No,” Shiro groaned miserably over the infant’s shrieks, turning off the rocking and scooping Makoto out. “I knew it was going to be _bad,_ but dear _God_.”

                “Give them to me,” Keith reached out for the baby, settling them in the crook of his arm. “Shhh, shhh. It’s okay, I’m here, your dads are here.”

                This news did not seem to faze Makoto in the slightest and they continued their crying, face scrunched up and broken out in patches of purple. Keith took a deep breath and, with a voice loud enough to carry over the din but still soft not to startle the baby, began to sing. It was some old song that was taught to him by one of the caretakers at the in-between house for fosters. He’d practiced for years to try and learn it on his guitar, and thus the lyrics were drilled into his head.

                As he sang, Makoto’s wails died down to whimpers and finally to soft, weepy breaths. And when Keith had finished, they were completely silent, eyes half-lidded and blinking closed.

                Releasing a laugh of disbelief, Keith immediately looked at Shiro, who was sitting with his hand cupped over his mouth, tears coursing down his cheeks.

                “They stopped crying,” he whispered, producing a little laugh as well. “Keith, you’re amazing.”

                Blushing, Keith slumped over onto Shiro’s chest, holding the baby between them, “I didn’t do anything special.”

                Shiro responded by pressing kiss after kiss onto Keith’s cheek, reaching up to scratch behind one of the purple-furred ears on top of his head. Immediately, Keith began to purr, the deep trilling rumples setting off tiny purrs of response in their child, who was slowly drifting to sleep.

                Things were markedly easier from there on out. Makoto developed frighteningly fast, and before either parent even knew it, their infant child was four years old, running around the house like they owned it and outdoing every other child in preschool.

                “They must get it from you,” Keith had told Shiro when Makoto had taken a book from their shelf and began to read it out loud.

                Makoto remained a voracious reader, and was currently pulling their favorite book into their lap as they sat on their play mat. It was a thickly-bound picture book based off of an old Disney movie, and even though they struggled through the majority of the words, Makoto still liked to attempt to read it multiple times a day. This made both of their parents incredibly proud, but as a result they had also developed a deep-seeded hatred for _The Aristocats_ after hearing the synopsis warbled to them three times a day for the past several weeks.

                “Hey you, don’t get involved,” Keith told them, heading towards the kitchen. “I have to go see if your Tou-san has burned down the kitchen yet, and then its dinnertime.”

                “‘Kay,” Makoto responded, setting aside their book and sitting patiently.

                “Thank you,” Keith chimed, pressing the button beside the kitchen door and sliding it open. Thankfully, it appeared that Shiro hadn’t managed to char the macaroni and cheese he was cooking and was currently sliding the leftovers into the fridge.

                “How’d hide and seek go?” Shiro smiled as Keith came up beside him and pressed a kiss to his hair, turned completely white over the years with stress.

                “I dunno, it was pretty close this time,” his husband grinned. “One of these days they’re going to camouflage into the carpet and we’ll have to be careful where we step.”

                Shiro stared at Keith, horrified, “Oh God, I hope not.”

                “I’m a chameleon!” Makoto announced proudly, marching into the room with a plastic Godzilla toy under their arm.

                “Is Usa eating dinner with you tonight, Mako?” Shiro asked.

                “Yeaaah,” the child responded, settling the kaiju on one of the plastic chairs at their little table.

                “Okay,” Shiro responded, taking an extra bowl and water cup out of the cupboard. He set them in front of the toy, patting it on the head. “Eat up, Usa.”

                “Thank you Tou-san, she’s soooo hung-y,” Makoto reached across the table and held the bowl up to the monster’s mouth. “Look Usa, Tou-san brought you luttus.”

                Makoto proceeded to make little eating noises for the monster and Shiro leaned over to kiss their head before standing up to grab a bowl full of macaroni and cheese and a plate of baby carrots he’d set out. As soon as Makoto finished helping Usa “eat”, they settled down into their own seat and Shiro set dinner down in front of them.

                “Water or milk, Pattit?” Keith asked, using a Galran nickname for Makoto, who turned their head this way and that in contemplation.

                “Ummm, milk please,” they decided, already munching on a carrot.

                As Keith filled up their sippy cup, Shiro sat down at the table and began to check the weather on his hailer, “It looks like it won’t rain tonight after all.”

                “That’s good to hear. Still, we should bring an umbrella,” Keith decided, setting down the sippy cup in front of Makoto, who produced a thank you in response before looking between their parents.

                “Can I come?” Makoto quipped suddenly. Shiro stood up from the table and knelt down beside them, petting their hair.           

                “We talked about this sweetheart, Daddy and Tou-san need some alone time for their anniversary,” Shiro explained. “That’s why you’re staying with your Aunt and Uncles tonight.”

                “Why can’t I come?” Makoto moaned, slumping down onto the table.

                “Because we’ll be doing grown-up things,” Keith explained nonchalantly.

                “ _Keith_ ,” Shiro said over his shoulder for what was probably literally the millionth time since they’d known each other.

                “You getta use knives and touch the stove?!” the child responded, looking absolutely stricken by the idea that they would be missing out on such fun activities.

                “Something like that,” Keith shrugged, glancing at the kitchen clock. “You’ll have plenty of fun with them, though – Pidge said she bought a new movie for you guys to watch together. And if you’re good we have a surprise for you when we get home, okay?”

                Makoto pouted their lips, shrewdly considering the offering, “Can Usa come, too?”

                “Of course,” Shiro confirmed, kissing them again and standing up. “Finish your dinner, sweetie, we have to go soon.”

                “‘Kay,” Makoto dug into their food with gusto, the upset apparently forgotten.

                Keith left the kitchen to go do a once-over of Makoto’s overnight pack and then stacked up the puzzle-piece tiles of their play mat to take out to the car. Shiro carried Makoto out shortly thereafter, clipping them into the car seat.

                “Got everything?” he asked Keith, who nodded in affirmative.

                “Yeah, I brought our luggage out earlier,” he confirmed, shutting the trunk of the sedan.

                The trip to their friends’ condo was short and largely uneventful up until they got to the front door and Makoto burst into tears.

                “Sweetie what’s the matter?” Keith asked calmly, stroking her hair out of her face. “You’re okay.”

                “ _I’ll miss you_ ,” Makoto sobbed as if their parents were going on an eight month journey to sea instead of an eighteen-hour overnight trip.

                Keith looked over to Shiro, and he could tell by his expression that his heart was breaking. Unfortunately, they were learning that Makoto had inherited a good deal of his anxiety, despite Shiro’s attempts to curb the behavior in front of the baby. But his PTSD had other ideas, usually resulting in Shiro checking in on them multiple times a night and disturbing Makoto to upset with his reactions to loud, sudden noises. Keith knew Shiro blamed himself for every one of Makoto’s anxious meltdowns.

                Pidge opened the front door, having heard the commotion outside. Giving her a little wave, Keith set Makoto down on the front porch, crouching down to their height. He beckoned Shiro to do the same, the other schooling his face into a patient look instead of an anxious grimace.

                “We’ll be back tomorrow at eleven in the morning, okay sweetheart?” Keith said, scratching behind one of Makoto’s ears. The child instantly began to calm, sniffling pitifully. “We’re not going to be gone that long, and you’ll have plenty of fun with your aunt and uncles.”

                “Okay,” they whispered, although their voice was tremulous. They immediately turned to Shiro to appeal, “But aren’t you going to miss me?”

                ‘ _This child is so extra_ ,’ Keith thought, watching Shiro struggle with Makoto’s question. They really knew which parent’s heartstrings were the easiest to pull. As hard as he tried, Shiro was a fairly indulgent parent, leaving Keith to be the authoritative figure the majority of the time.

                “Of _course_ I’ll miss you, Pattit,” Shiro said, pulling his child into a close hug.

                “I’ll miss you, Tou-san,” Makoto sniffled in response.

                “I know, love,” Shiro returned, kissing their hair. “But we need our alone time, okay?”

                Makoto instantly turned to Pidge, who was now reclining against the doorframe and watching her friends’ parent.

                “Daddy said him and Tou-san gotta do grownup things,” they informed Pidge point-blank. Shiro immediately turned the same shade of his hair and Keith smothered a snort with his hand, turning away.

                “And that’s why you’re staying with me tonight,” Pidge smirked, kneeling down to scoop up her nibling and pressing a big kiss to their cheek. “Hi Mako, how’re you?”

                “Sad,” Makoto responded immediately.

                “Well I’m sorry you’re sad,” Pidge replied, bouncing the toddler in her arms. “But I got something that might cheer you up.”

                “What is it?” Makoto asked, the last of their worries immediately evaporating at the promise of a present. “Is it the movie?”

                “That’s right!” Pidge grinned, “The one and only _Mothra versus Godzilla_!”

                “HOLY BEANS,” Makoto shouted, “I _LOVE_ GODZILLA!”

                “Shh, sweetie, Uncle Hunk and Uncle Lance are upstairs sleeping,” Pidge hushed her. “They were up all night working so we gotta be quiet tonight, okay?”

                “OKAY,” Mako said in a stage whisper, just barely containing their enthusiasm.

                “That movie’s over a hundred years old,” Keith frowned. “Where did you even _find_ that?”

                “I got connections,” Pidge smirked, adjusting her glasses with her spare hand. “And by connections I mean ebay.”

                “Did you watch it to make sure there’s nothing too scary?” Shiro asked, carrying in Makoto’s overnight and the play mat tiles.

                “No scarier than the other Godzilla movies,” Pidge shrugged, plopping Makoto down on the couch. They clambered down to where Shiro had set down their overnight bag and proceeded to open it, extracting the Godzilla toy and holding it up excitedly.

                “We’re gonna watch a movie with you in it, Usa!” Makoto informed the dinosaur, dancing back over to the couch and climbing up. Shiro started to set out the play mat, locking the pieces together.

                “I’ll never forgive you for getting our four-year-old addicted to kaiju movies,” Keith scowled. The amount of money he and Shiro had thrown into supplying their child with the ancient movies was absolutely appalling.

                “Well, it could be worse,” Pidge shrugged. “They—oh yeah, hey Mako.”

                The toddler turned to look at Pidge, settling Usa up against one of the pillows to watch the movie.

                “Boy or girl today?” Pidge asked. “Or both? Neither?”

                “Uhh,” Makoto stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Girl!”

                “Thanks sweetie,” Pidge smiled, returning to Makoto’s parents. “She could still be addicted to one of those God-awful kids shows.”

                “Don’t talk to me about Polly the Pig,” Kid stared into Pidge’s eyes, his own completely hollow. “She _just_ grew out of that phase. If I ever hear a toy oink again, I’m going to burn it.”

                “Yeah, _thank you_ for that,” Shiro joined the conversation, having finished setting up the mat. “I think it completely saved our sanity.”

                “No problem,” Pidge said, reaching out to touch his shoulder in welcome. “Now you guys get going, okay?”

                “Kicking us out so soon?” Keith smirked as Pidge steered them towards the door.

                “You guys haven’t been alone in _months_ ,” she heaved an exasperated sigh. “If I let you stay here for more than five minutes, you’re both going to end up staying the night.”

                “At least let us kiss her goodbye!” Keith pushed Pidge good-naturedly, he and Shiro rounding her to approach their daughter.

                “It’s time for us to go now, sweetie,” Shiro informed Makoto, who seemed much more interested with arranging the tassels of the throw pillow over Usa’s head.

                “Uh huh,” she chirped, completely distracted. It was almost disturbing how quickly children’s moods could change. It was like she hadn’t even started to have a meltdown five minutes earlier.

                Keith and Shiro exchanged amused glances, both pressing a kiss to her cheeks at the same time.

                “I love you sweetie,” Shiro said, “Be good for Aunt Pidge, okay?”

                “Love you, Mako,” Keith brushed their noses together before turning to Pidge. “Did you get her schedule?”

                “Right here,” Pidge responded, holding up her hailer. “Bedtime’s at eight thirty, yeah?”

                “That’s right, but she’ll fight you on that,” Shiro informed Pidge as he and Keith approached the door.

                “Don’t worry, I have an iron-clad will,” Pidge professed, shooing them away. She smirked devilishly. “Have a fun time doing ‘grownup stuff’.”

                Shiro coughed loudly and Keith laughed, mussing Pidge’s hair.

                “Bye, baby!” he called over her shoulder.

                “Byeeeee,” Makoto cried back, still completely distracted by her toy.

                “Bye!” Shiro said as Pidge attempted to close the door on him. “Are you sure you have everything you need did you—?”

                “Good _bye_ Shiro,” Pidge grinned, forcefully shutting the door. Heaving an amused sigh, Pidge waited until she heard the sound of Keith and Shiro getting into the car before she turned to Makoto with a smirk. “Wanna stay up until nine?”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                Nine, it seemed, was a far-off fantasy for big kids. While the movie played, Makoto’s head  began bobbing as she threatened to fall asleep face-first into the bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap. Smiling, Pidge picked up the popcorn and set it aside on the coffee table before tucking her niece under her arm.

                “I’m not sleepy,” Makoto mumbled suddenly, even as her eyes fluttered closed.

                “Of course, sweetie,” Pidge smiled, pausing the movie and turning off the TV. A pleasant silence filled the condo and the green paladin allowed herself a moment to relax, cuddling Makoto closer.

                It was insane to think of how much had changed in the past decade. Despite the integration of Earth into the extended galaxy, freeing countless colonized civilizations from Zarkon’s rule, finding her family, and settling into her role as Head of Innovations and Intelligence for the Voltron Alliance, the weirdest thing was that there now existed a person who was part Keith and part Shiro. It was also the best thing, by far.

                Pidge loved her beautiful non-binary nibling more fiercely than she had loved anything before. She knew first-hand what it was like to be a child who didn’t adhere to the gender binary, and how much of a struggle that could be. She supposed that it was kind of an arbitrary reason to favor Makoto so much, but simply couldn’t help herself… especially when it came to spoiling them.

                Sighing contently, Pidge opened her eyes and allowed them to adjust to the darkness of the room. As she shifted in place, a tiny glint of red light glazed over the surface of the television. For a moment Pidge frowned, completely perplexed, before cold horror seized in her chest.

                Immediately, she pulled Makoto to her chest and flung them both down onto the floor. There was the sound of shattering glass as the shot was taken. Pidge tapped the side of her glasses, activating the night vision and environment scan. Thin as a toothpick, a sleeper dart was immediately highlighted, having buried itself in the carpet. The glasses immediately traced its angle and calculated the trajectory as Pidge turned her head towards the shattered sliding door that led into her backyard.

                A slight form was detected in the trees, betraying the position of the sniper.

                Pidge pulled Makoto – thankfully silent, albeit shivering in terror – closer to her chest and held down a button on the opposite side of her glasses, rolling to dodge the next shot.

                “Alright Sparky,” she said. “Take ‘em out.”

                The security system responded immediately, a swarm of tiny drones releasing from the eaves of Pidge’s condo and surrounding the assailant. Before another shot could be taken, the crackling energy of the drones’ defense system cast brief, lightning-like light over the backyard and the assassin immediately rolled to the ground.

                Pidge continued to hold down the button on her glasses, scanning the environment around the condo. She paled as the readings flickered to life across the lenses. Just as she did so, her hailer chimed. Pidge looked down at the text message that spread across the screen, heart seizing with horror.

                “Sparky,” she said, voice wavering slightly. “Bring in the assailant and then initiate lockdown.”

                Upstairs, the door to the master bedroom swung open, Hunk sleepily wandering onto the landing. “Hey,” he said, barely stifling a yawn. “Could you turn the TV down, it woke me up and Lance is gonna kill you if he wa—.”

                Hunk finally noticed the situation at hand, watching as an army of tiny drones rolled a masked stranger through the broken sliding glass door at lightning-quick speed, and metal sheets began to roll over it, as well as the windows. As the body was dragged in, the metal sheets clanged wickedly as yet another sniper took aim and narrowly missed.

                “Hunk,” said Pidge, “Don’t freak out.”

                Hunk then proceeded to freak out.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                “We have to call Shiro and Keith,” Hunk said, staring at the still form of the assailant tied up to a chair in Pidge’s spare bedroom. There was a black pillowcase fit snugly over his head, secured loosely with a wrap of duct tape.

                “No we don’t!” Pidge argued, “I have this perfectly under control! They haven’t had a night off in _ages_ and I’m not ruining their anniversary!”

                “Under _control_!” Lance balked, “Pidge, I’d like to introduce you to someone and his name is _Mister Assassin_ and he just tried to _kidnap the fuck out of our nibling._ I don’t think this qualifies as under control!”

                “Why did wake him up!?” Pidge yelled at Hunk, gesturing towards Lance as if he were Hunk’s yippy dog instead of his boyfriend.

                “If you haven’t noticed, we all kind of live together!” Hunk said, hands rising in self-defense. “I couldn’t just be like ‘oh okay honey we almost just got _assassinated_ , you stay in bed while I help to tie the guy up’!”

                “If you’re going to be awake, go be useful and watch Makoto!” Pidge hissed at Lance, pointing towards the living room where the little girl was curled up in about thirty layers of blankets, shivering violently. “I don’t want her to be alone.”

                “I’m calling Shiro,” Lance decided instead, grabbing for Pidge’s hailer.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                Keith was smiling into his after-dinner coffee, attempting to smother a blush with his right hand.

                “ _Takashi_ ,” he smiled, allowing Shiro to slide a band onto his ring finger. It was simple enough for his tastes – braided white and rose gold, and it fit up neatly against their wedding band. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

                “I never got to propose to you properly,” Shiro returned, smiling gently at his husband. “I thought I’d do it right this time.”

                “Thank you for not getting down on one knee in front of all these people,” Keith blushed, glancing around the restaurant conscientiously as if all the other oblivious patrons would suddenly burst into applause. “I swear to God I’ll kill you if you have a spectacle planned.”

                Shiro blushed, shaking his head enthusiastically, “God no. I couldn’t handle that either.”

                “Glad we’re in agreement,” Keith chuckled, lacing their hands together. “Yeah I _guess_ I’ll marry you.”

                “You _guess_?” Shiro laughed, rocking their wrists back and forth. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic Keith, I’ll get overwhelmed.”

                Keith’s grin turned wicked, “Yeah, that comes later tonight.”

                Shiro stared at him, completely perplexed, “What does that me—?”

                He was cut off by the sound of his hailer ringing, his spare hand immediately digging into his coat pocket. Breaking hands with Keith, he answered.

                “Pidge?”

                “Shiro! _There has been an incident_ ,” Lance’s desperate voice broke over the line. Shiro sat up straight immediately, Keith following suit, his expression clouding over in concern.

                “What happened?” Shiro asked immediately, and the only response was the sound of arguing before Pidge managed to wrestle the phone away from Lance.

                “ _Give me that—_! Hi Shiro!” she greeted him cheerfully.

                “Pidge? Was that Lance?” Shiro frowned. “He said there’s been an ‘incident’, is everything alright?”

                “Oh yeah,” Pidge said enthusiastically. “Lance and Hunk just woke up… they wanted to hang out with Mako before she went to bed. And she just. Had an accident.”

                Shiro visibly deflated with relief, Keith following suit. Shiro pressed the hailer to the front of his coat.

                “Makoto had an accident,” he reported, Keith sighing deeply in response.

                “I mean,” Pidge was rambling. “You know Lance, making a big deal out of everything! Ha ha! It’s okay, we got everything under control. You can get back to your date now! Happyanniversarybye!”

                Shiro blinked at the sudden sound of the line disconnecting, pulling his phone away from his chest to frown at it before pocketing it.

                “That was weird,” Keith frowned. “She just called to tell you that and hung up?”

                “No, Lance and Hunk woke up and Lance thought it was imperative to call and inform us,” Shiro explained, reaching back out to take Keith’s hand. “I think he’s giving her a hard time, she sounds pretty frazzled.”

                “Geez,” Keith rolled his eyes, although there was a fond smile on his lips. “Some things never change, huh?”

                “Guess not.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                “Pidge are you nuts?!” Lance yelled. “Who _cares_ if their anniversary is ruined, this is _kind of a little more important, don’t you think?”_

                “No I just,” Pidge raked a hand through her hair, pacing over to the side of the room and standing by the blocked-off window, “I initiated lockdown, no one’s getting in or out of here for the next twelve hours.”

                Lance and Hunk exchanges glances.

                “Why,” Hunk began very slowly. “Why did you do that?”

                “Because,” Pidge said, clearly attempting to stay as even and calm as possible. “I scanned the surrounding area and – there are seven others outside and they’re all armed.”

                “And you’re just telling us this _now?!”_  Lance balked, looking about ready to tear out his hair.

                “Don’t yell, you’ll upset Mako!” Pidge hissed.

                “We gotta call them – we gotta call _someone_!” Lance waved his hands around, continuing to yell despite Pidge’s request.

                “NO!” Pidge shouted, breaking her rules as well. “Lance we can’t.”

                “Why can’t we?!” Lance choked. “Pidge, you’re fucking craz—.”

                Pidge thrust her hailer into Lance’s hands.

                “Because if any sort of backup arrives,” she said as evenly as possible. “They’ll activate a bomb.”

                “Oh my fuck,” Lance whispered, reading over the clipped message. “I gotta. Wow. Fuck. I’m going to go sit with Mako.”

Hunk followed him into the hallway, throwing his hands into the air and releasing a series of terrified laughs.

                “A _bomb_?!” Hunk hissed, storming back into the room. “A freakin’—Pidge they have to be bluffing, you can’t be serious!”

                “Hunk, _we_ _fly magical lions through space_ – and this isn’t the first time something like this has happened, and it certainly won’t be the last,” Pidge replied.

                Meanwhile, in the nearby chair, the assassin began to stir.

                “Oh my God he’s waking up. What do we do, what do we do?!” Hunk began to dance in place, looking like he was about to start gnawing off his nails Scooby Doo style.

                “Hunk, you stay here I’ll go get my things,” Pidge informed the yellow paladin. “I’m going to find out where they planted the bomb and how to remotely deactivate it.”

                All of the color drained from Hunk’s face, “Oh God. Pidge not _now._ Not _here_.”

                “If he wakes up all the way, just zap him out again,” she told Hunk, shoving a black taser into his hand. Hunk produced a high-pitched whine of terror as Pidge exited the guest room in quick strides.

                As she crossed the living room to gather her scrubbing gloves from the bathroom, Pidge spotted the shaking pile of blankets that was Makoto and felt her heart simultaneously break and fill with psychotic rage.

                On the couch, Lance was doing his best to try to comfort Makoto, who was now just beginning to whimper and whine. He reached into the blankets but was met with a swift nip of carnivore teeth to the side of his hand. Immediately he wrenched his hand out, holding it as far away from the toddler as he could.

                “Heeey Mako,” he soothed. “It’s just me, Uncle Lance.”

                Makoto was silent for several heavy seconds before her muffled voice announced, “I want my daddies.”

                “Well, they aren’t here right now, but you got your Uncle Lance and your Uncle Hunk and your Aunt Pidge and we all love you very much,” Lance supplicated, patting the mound of blankets awkwardly. He watched in mounting terror as Pidge left the kitchen wearing an apron and rubber gloves, stepping up the stairway nonchalantly. Maybe it was a good idea if Makoto stayed under the blankets.

                “I want my daddies,” Makoto sobbed again, the blanket pile curling in on itself.

                “I know I know, but you’re gonna be okay, alright sweetie?” Lance continued to pet the blankets, groping around for the remote. “Here, I’ll turn on the TV and we can watch something together.”

                ‘ _We’re gonna need_ something _to drown out the screams_ ,’ Lance thought in slight terror, watching as Pidge descended the stairs with her hair up in a ponytail, a metal briefcase clutched in one hand. Inside was an instrument of her own design engineered from some of the mechanics in the Castle of Lions – Lance had only needed to see it used once in an interrogation and that was _more_ than enough for him.

                There was a yelp and a loud crackle of electricity from the guest room and Lance frowned in its direction, fearing for his boyfriend. He might have been big and intimidating, but Hunk had the heart of a lamb, and Lance knew that things like interrogation were far beyond his comfort zone. As for Pidge—

                Pidge opened the guest bedroom door with a bang, “Good _morning_ you piece of _shit_. Ready to tell me why you tried to kidnap the ambassadors’ daughter, _you soggy fucking prick_?”

                —yeah, Lance knew _exactly_ where Pidge stood on those matters. That was exactly why she was not only head of Innovations, but also of Intelligence. Which was just a really nice way of saying she had perfected the arts of war, espionage, and torture in turn. Anyone who got caught in her way would rue the day they managed to piss off Commander Katie Holt.

                Knowing things were about to get _really_ loud _really_ fast. Lace hit the play button on the remote and turned the volume up as loud as he could stand. A tiny pair of twin ladies dressed in yellow started up a pleasant song, prompting Makoto to stick her head out from under the covers.

                “See? Everything is okay,” Lance soothed, pulling her into his lap along with eighty percent of the blankets. Hesitantly, the toddler stuck her head out from the blanket and stared at the television.

                “Tha’s the shobijin,” Makoto reported, as if Lance had even an inkling of what she was going on about. “Kumayama an’ Torahata were gonna steal them.”

                She turned her head towards Lance, staring up at him with giant, yellow eyes, “Was the bad man gonna steal me like that?”

                In the back room, the assassin started screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

                “ _Sven_ ,” Keith said breathlessly, allowing Shiro to pin him to the hotel bed. He ran a tender hand down Keith’s cheek, trailing his fingertips down the line of his body.

                “Jeg vil ha deg, Akira,” Shiro returned in soft Swedish, eyes flicking back up to Keith’s. Cupping Shiro’s cheeks in his hands, Keith pressed their lips together, hot mouths opening and surging against one another. Keith pulled away a fraction, lips brushing the shell of Shiro’s ear, eyes clouded over in lust.

                “Kjør kjøttøksa i glefsa mi og pul meg hardt, Sven,” Keith returned, awfully garbling the Norwegian in his attempt to speak, but the phrase sent heat down Shiro’s core regardless.

                “Akira, you learned,” he responded, gently kissing Keith’s eyelids.

                “For you,” Keith returned sweetly, pressing his lips into Shiro’s palm. “I had a lot of time, Sven.”

                “I missed you,” Shiro whispered, cupping Keith’s cheek tenderly.

                “I thought you were dead,” Keith whimpered, eyes clouding over as he wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. He stopped as their lips hovered a fraction of an inch from one another, lightly brushing as Keith spoke. “Never leave me?”

                “Never,” Shiro shook his head, brushing their lips together lightly so that he could say, “Jeg elsker deg, Akira.”

                Keith whimpered and they sunk into another deep kiss, his hands finding the snaps on Shiro’s high-collared shirt—

                “I want you to fuck me hard, Sven,” he growled, rolling his body as Shiro palmed his erection. “Make sure I never forget you—.”

                The scene was broken by the sound of Keith’s hailer going off. Eyes large with annoyed mania, Keith flopped back down on the bed, looking ready to murder someone.

                “Answer it,” Keith sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he temporarily willed away his human appearance to save energy. Usually, he would’ve chucked the hailer into the closet, but with a child away from home, they didn’t have that option.

                Shiro sighed and grabbed at Keith’s hailer, knocking a vibe off of the side table in the process. Keith dove to save it.

                “Hello?” Shiro asked, softly as to not disturb the people in neighboring rooms.

                “ _Shiro_ ,” Hunk was sobbing. “Oh my God Shiro it’s _awful_ you have to stop her, she’s _crazy_.”

                Again, there was a squabble over the phone and Pidge’s almost-manically bright voice chimed over the line. “Hi Shiro! I’m sorry, Hunk wasn’t supposed to call, I got _everything_ under control!”

                “Pidge, what’s going on? It’s almost midnight,” Shiro frowned, shaken at Hunk’s tone. Keith leaned out of the bathroom, where he was scrubbing the vibrator clean.

                “Is everything okay?” Keith whispered, eyes narrowed in concern.

                “Like Hunk said, your daughter is _crazy_ , Shiro!” Pidge laughed. “Man I’ve been trying all night to get her to go to bed but she’s been jumping on the couch and running around the house—man, she really takes after Keith, huh?”

                “That doesn’t sound like her,” Shiro frowned before his look turned suspicious. “You didn’t give her any caffeine, did you?”

                “Whaaaat? Noooo – okay well maybe a _little_ ,” Pidge laughed hysterically. “Man, Hunk’s soooo exasperated, he’s been chasing her around all night, little spitfire! He couldn’t help but call you!”

                “Can we talk to her?” Shiro asked. “Maybe something’s wrong? She’s never acted out like this before.”

                “Talk to—oops, well wouldja lookit that? Looks like she just crashed from the sugar high – wow kids you know? Of course you do, you have one! Sorry to bother you, byeeee!”

                Click.

                Shiro made a face as Keith approached him, setting the vibrator aside.

                “What was up?” his husband asked, sitting on the bed beside Shiro.

                “Pidge fed Mako a ton of sugar and is completely out of her depth,” Shiro sighed, setting the phone aside. “She keeps making a bunch of excuses. Maybe we should—.”

                Keith took Shiro gently by the jaw and pulled him into a kiss, “She’s fine. Hunk and Lance are there with her – between the three of them, I think things are gonna be okay.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                “THINGS ARE DEFINITELY NOT OKAY,” Hunk said loudly as Pidge chucked the hailer into the guest closet and slammed it shut. “WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT? WHY WOULD YOU TELL THEM THAT?”

                “Because I have EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL,” Pidge shouted in response.  A spark trailed down a wire coming from the metal briefcase and hit the alien assassin with a loud _bzzt_ , causing his entire body to jerk violently. “And I told you not to call them _because we’re all fucking dead if they come over here and that bomb goes off!”_

                “Oh yeah Shiro and Keith, everything is perfectly fine, only WE LIED TO YOU AND SOMEONE IS TRYING TO KIDNAP YOUR KID AND THERE’S A BOMB INVOLVED AND ALSO MAKOTO IS PROBABLY HORRIBLY TRAUMATIZED HA HA HA,” Hunk recited manically, turning to Pidge with his eyes bulging. “May I _remind you_ , that Keith is the person who _tore out the Galra general’s throat with his teeth_?”

                “Okay but you gotta admit,” Pidge said, raising a finger as if to prove a point. “That was really fucking metal.”

                “Yes it was _incredibly_ metal but also SCARY AS HECK, PIDGE. HE’S GOING TO MURDER US IN COLD BLOOD,” Hunk grasped Pidge by the shoulders, shaking her violently. “And oh yeah Makoto’s _other_ dad is the one who _literally turned Zarkon’s head to grey matter with his bare hand_.”

                “Again, incredibly metal,” Pidge said casually, raising a thumbs up.

                “ _You’re insane_ ,” Hunk hissed into Pidge’s face.

                “Yeah pretty much,” said Pidge, shaking him off and crouching by the briefcase. She brought up the tablet stored within and began the process of translating the data into written word.

The tangle of wires emerging from it had been injected into the assassin’s legs, arms, face, and head. The machine itself was named – simply and horrifyingly – the extractor. It ran off of the same principal and similar technology as memory ghosts, but was able to extract memories and information against the victim’s will in a matter identical to that of what they’d attempted to do to Sendak ten years earlier. Only, the extractor was far more effective and gritty a machine, and had a propensity to leave the victim’s brain a pile of mush.

                So there were a few kinks to work out.

                Pidge didn’t try to resort to it often, but when the number one method of interrogation, bargaining, failed and the number two method of torture proved to be just as unsuccessful, the assassin had forced her hand.

                …not that Pidge didn’t take a deal of sick satisfaction seeing the would-be kidnapper of her nibling crumble in front of her.

                “ _Crazy,_ ” Hunk muttered accusatorily, sneaking out of the room to check on his boyfriend. Lance was sitting stock-still on the couch, eyes insanely wide and lips completely pursed. Makoto was sitting next to him, her ears pressed down to her head.

                “Am I gonna die?” she whispered.

                Hunk fought the urge to go back into the spare bedroom.

                “No, no Mako you aren’t going to die, everything’s okay,” Lance turned to the toddler, picking her up once more and tucking her into his arms. He looked desperately at Hunk. “I know we can’t tell Keith and Shiro – they’ll come storming over here first thing and if that b-o-m-b goes o-f-f, we’re s-c-r-e-w-e-d.”

                “At the very least we’ll be safe in here. Sparky is pretty much foolproof after the third assassination attempt and that guy’s b-r-a-i-n is probably guacamole by now,” Hunk reported, wincing in the slightest amount of worry. The political climate following this incident was sure to be super fun. He sat down beside Lance and Makoto, propping his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Moments later, a tiny hand was pressed to his cheek. Hunk’s eyes fluttered open to meet Makoto’s plaintive face.

                “Are you okay?” she asked, petting his cheek consolingly. “You’re sad.”

                Hunk and Lance’s hearts proceeded to melt in unison. In response, they snuggled closer around her in a tight double-hug.

                “I’m okay kiddo,” Hunk said, running a hand through her fluffy grey hair. “We’re all going to be okay. We’re just a little—.” he searched for the correct word that wouldn’t frighten her. “ _Concerned_ right now.”

                Makoto nodded gravely, as if she understood the full gravity of the situation. “It’s okay,” she said softly, extracting her toy Godzilla from the blankets. “Usa’s     here with us, an’ she’s _probably_ almost as strong as my daddies.”

                She made to hand the toy to Lance, “You look scared, so I’ll let you hold Usa. She’ll keep us safe.”

                Lance squeezed his niece closer trapping the pointy toy between them, “No sweetie, it’s okay. You hold onto her, alright? Remember, we’re big strong Lions! Rawr!” he posed with his hands held over his head, fingers bent to resemble claws.

                Makoto laughed, dropping the blankets from her shoulders, repeating the motion with her own set of tiny, _very real_ claws.

                “Okay yeah, you gotta put those away sweetie,” Lance said, quickly covering Makoto’s hand with a corner of the blanket.

                “Okay,” the toddler agreed, blinking her eyes wearily. With a weepy little sound, she leaned her head against Hunk’s chest, eyes threatening to close.

                “You tired, baby?” he asked, stroking her hair.

                “I’m scared,” Makoto admitted.

                “Well you don’t have anything to be scared of,” Lance smiled. “We won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

                “Okay,” Makoto nodded. She closed her eyes for all of three seconds before they snapped back open. “Uncle Lance?”

                “Yeah?” Lance said, feeling exhaustion creep into him as well.

                “Will you sing me a song?” she requested, reaching out to pat his cheek with her little hand once more. “When I’m scared, Daddy sings me a song so I feel better.”

                “Uh, okay?” her uncle replied a little hesitantly. “What song do you wanna hear?”

                “Miyarabi no Inari. ‘S from _Godzilla versus MechaGodzilla_ ,” Makoto rattled off instantly.

                “I uh,” Lance began. “Can’t say that I know that one, kiddo. Got any other requests?”

                “Gojira to Jettojagā de Panchi Panchi Panchi?”

                Lance and Hunk stared at her in mystification.

                “Something in English?” Lance hedged. “Or Spanish?”

                “I know some Hawaiian?” Hunk supplied.

                “No Suo Gan?” Makoto asked. “Daddy sings me that one _all_ the time.”

                “I know Aruru mi niño?” Lance suggested.

                “What’s that?” Makoto asked, pressing her balled-up fists against his chest.

                “It’s a Cuban lullaby – uh,” Lance winced. “Please don’t cry if it sounds bad?”

                “It’s okay,” Makoto patted his chest consolingly. “Tou-san can’t sing, too.”

                “That’s a relief,” Lance laughed. “Uh, okay um – _aruru mi ni_ _ño, arrur_ _ú mi amor…”_

Lance trailed on softly through the lullaby, relief rushing through him as Makoto began to relax as he sang. After several repetitions of the song, the toddler was fast asleep between him and Hunk, her face completely relaxed and balled fists uncurling.

                “Keith’s right,” Lance chucked, careful to keep his voice soft. “That _is_ the most rewarding things ever.” He glanced hesitantly at Hunk, “Think we should get ourselves one of these?”

                Hunk smothered a blush with a laugh, hiding his face in Lance’s hair, “Yeah, after this I’d wanna raise our kids in a bunker.”

                The guest room door opened and Pidge walked out, stripping off her yellow scrubbing gloves as she did. The couple on the couch perked up immediately, watching her extract a tablet from the maw-like pouch in the front of her apron.

                “I know where the bomb is,” she said quietly, eyeing Makoto warily. “It’s just inside the storm drain four doors down. I can send the drones out to disassemble it, but there’s a chance the snipers will take them out before they even get there.”

                “What do we do?” Lance asked in a hush, subconsciously pulling Makoto even closer. The toddler made a small noise, stirring momentarily before settling down once again. The paladins released a set of relived sighs as soon as she began breathing deeply.

                “I’d say we’d have to snipe them back from the attic, but I don’t know if they’ll detonate the bomb if we make a defensive maneuver,” she pinched her lip between her teeth, running a hand through her bangs and catching on her disheveled ponytail. “We’re going to have to call Shiro and Keith.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                Keith’s eyes snapped open as the petulant wail of his hailer pierced through the silence of the hotel room.

                “I swear to God I’m going to murder all three of them,” he grumbled, rolling off of his husband’s chest and snatching up the phone. Shiro sat up partially, eyes still shut as he mumbled something completely incoherent. “ _It’s two in the morning, what could you possibly wa—_?”

                Keith went dead quiet.

                Shiro’s eyes immediately opened as he heard the hailer break with a loud _crack_.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                It hadn’t taken more than a few minutes for him and his husband to get dressed and arrive in Midtown where the other paladins lived, but it had felt like he was moving through molasses. It was imperative that he and Shiro stayed outside of the detection of whoever was staking out the condo unless – he didn’t even want to consider the notion of the alternative. There was absolutely no way that was going to happen.

                The temptation to assemble an entire fleet of foot soldiers had been great, but it was decided that stealth and subtleness was going to be their best route. As such, Keith sat in the sedan several blocks away, hands trembling as he clutched Shiro’s hailer. The projection showed Shiro’s position in relation to that of their enemies, and it was his job to guide him. Pidge had offered to be the one, but Keith absolutely refused to be so helpless. His eyes pinched with the threat of tears, throat constricting as he thought of Makoto – all yellow eyes and fluffy hair, bright smiles, and absolute adoration and perfection.

                Smothering down the torrent of horror, Keith gripped the hailer tightly, watching as the purple dot that represented Shiro slowly moved across the map.

                “He’s on the roof of the house to your left,” Keith explained, readjusting the three-dimensional picture. “If he’s facing the condo, you should be able to take him out without him noticing. Be careful climbing up there.”

                “I’ll get him,” Shiro promised. His voice was cold, betraying absolutely no emotion save for a cold line of fury.  He hadn’t had much experience in stealth kills, but Keith was completely certain that he could take out the all seven with minimal effort. Once he got rid of the first assailant, his position on the roof would easily allow him to snipe the six others before they noticed the lack of the first’s presence.

                Lance may have been the most experiences marksman on the team, but Keith had never seen Shiro miss a shot.

                As silently as possible, Shiro brought himself up to the trellis running up the side of the house, foot quickly finding purchase in a decorative white brick jutting from the wall. His heart went out to the poor neighbors sleeping silently inside; if it had been less of a dire situation, he’d have contacted the local authorities to initiate an evacuation – but the threat of the bomb lurking several doors away made this an unsavory plan.

                Grabbing the ledge of the roof, the black paladin dropped his foothold, using his arms to suspend himself, gritting his teeth as he pulled his upper body onto the roof as fluidly as possible. Thankfully, the roof on this particular house was nearly flat, which worked to advantage to both Shiro and the sniper, who was pressed flat to the roof several feet away, eye fixed into a laser sight.

                Shiro’s first instinct was to silence him, but he doubted her could get close enough to cover his mouth, giving the sniper’s position. With a steady breath Shiro unclipped his bayard from his belt loop.

                Upon recognizing his grip, the black bayard glowed to life in a subtle orchid light, coalescing into the form of a naginata tipped with a curved blade of light. Shiro twisted the blade to extend to its full length and approached the sniper with steps as silent and controlled as possible.

                His head slid silently down the roof and fell to the pavement moments later with a sick, wet noise.

                Rolling the body away from the rifle, Shiro crouched down into the torrent of blood, observing the make of the gun. Ice filled his gut as he recognized the familiar curves of the weapon, touching his earpiece to contact Keith.

                “I took him out,” he reported evenly, lowering his eye to the sight. “The gun’s Galra make. Laser ammo, so its silent.”

                On the other side of the line, Keith swore, hands tightening around Shiro’s hailer. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself to the best of his ability, “We’ll puzzle out what that implies for us later, just take the others out. Do you see the guy to your lower left?”               

                Shiro switched off the laser as to not prematurely alert the other assailants to his shot and scoured the trees in the direction Keith had indicated, “Yes.”

                “It’ll be easiest to shoot them clockwise,” Keith continued. “There’s another in the backyard to the left of Pidge’s place, two on her roof, one on the roof of the place on Pidge’s right, and one in the front yard of the place adjacent to Pidge’s.”

                “Where’s the sixth?” Shiro asked, quickly finding each of the indicated targets.

                Keith hesitated, “He’s the first one you’ll have to get. He’s in the storm drain with the bomb.”

                “ _Fuck_ ,” Shiro swore, grip tightening on the gun. Fire too close and the shot would cause it to detonate – fire too far and the assailant would be alerted to his presence. One wrong twitch and his child would be dead.

                For a moment, Shiro’s head spun, the muffled tinnitus of dissociation threatening to take over his headspace. It was Keith’s distant voice that called him back to focus, fighting against the railing beat of his heart. Shio lined the wavering sights up to the fraction of a masked head he could see in the gap of the storm drain.

                “You’ll make the shot,” Keith said with utmost confidence, and Shiro could all but feel Keith’s hands steadying his shoulders, his steady breath setting a calming pace for his.

                “I will,” Shiro promised, and fired.

                There was a split-second hesitation, and the assailant crumbled.

                Wasting no time to gloat his victory, Shiro quickly realigned his sights on the first enemy Keith had pointed out, and in a series of neat shots, took them out. Quick, quiet, and efficient like snuffing out a candle between his fingertips rather than a life.

                Releasing a tremulous breath Shiro hadn’t known he was holding, the black paladin smiled victoriously, pressing his ear piece to contact Keith, “We’re good. You can—.”

                Over the line was the empty sound of the car chiming to indicate an open door. The just-eviscerated anxiety in Shiro’s chest took light like a flame traveling down a candle’s smoke path. The black paladin dropped the gun, immediately doubling back and nearly falling from the side of the roof in the process.

                He set off in a dead sprint, arriving to the corner where the car was parked. Keith stood propped up against the vehicle, wiping viscera from his mouth with a back of a bloodied paw, claws glistening wet in the yellow streetlight; his spare hand was wrapped tightly around his middle. Glass glittered across the pavement, mixed in with the entrails of the kill. An armored mask had been thrown across the street, allowing Shiro to see the gutted throat of the Galra assassin it belonged to.

                As he approached, Keith’s hair stood on end, the plum black locks becoming full as he pulled back his lips into a snarling hiss. He stopped short upon seeing Shiro, panting heavily as they jogged to meet one another halfway.

                “ _Keith_ ,” Shiro breathed, cupping his husband’s face between his hands, anxiety clearly written on his features. Keith gripped the front of Shiro’s shirt, claws pricking holes into the black fabric.

                “We’re okay, I didn’t take a hit,” Keith assuaged him immediately, nuzzling into Shiro’s palm and spreading blood there.

                “What happened?” Shiro asked, pressing a kiss to Keith’s hair in lieu of his bloodied mouth.

                “He broke the passenger window and tried to stick me with this,” Keith produced a syringe that appeared to be empty. Shiro seized in horror, squeezing Keith close once again. “I managed to turn it on him and—.”

                His eyes flickered over the purple streaks running from the passenger door to the corpse, “Well.”

                “I’m so glad you’re okay,” his husband whispered into his hair, petting it and pressing Keith into the crook of his shoulder. “He must’ve been outside the range of Pidge’s security system. Did you see anyone else?”

                Keith shook his head, “If there was anyone else, they’re probably gone now. It looked like it was a last-ditch effort after you took the others out.”

                Shiro nodded, pulling back from Keith and stepping carefully over the glass from the car door.

                “You think the insurance company covers espionage?” he snorted to himself and reached into the car. Immediately, he extracted his hailer, calling up Pidge, and putting her on speaker phone for Keith’s sake.

                “We’re clear,” he reported. “There was an eighth man outside of your range, but it’s taken care of. How’re things on your end.”

                “The bomb’s neutralized,” she replied, voice trembling slightly. “You should call Allura and Coran in the meantime – and uh, yeah it’s probably a good idea to the police, too. The lockdown will be complete in six hours—.”

                “That’s bullshit,” Keith cut her off with a snarl. “I’m seeing my child _now_.”

                There was a pause and an extended sigh from Pidge, “I’ll see if I can start the override process.”

                “How’s Makoto?” Shiro cut in. Pidge laughed softly.

                “Sacked out on Lance and Hunk,” she informed him. “She was freaked out, but I think she’ll be okay.”

                “She better,” Keith muttered threateningly, more to himself than to Pidge.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

                A scant hour passed before Pidge’s override was successful and the lockdown was deactivated. At this time, Keith and Shiro all but barreled through the door and to their daughter, who was passed out on the couch, sleeping as if she hadn’t just survived a kidnapping attempt and subsequent espionage mission. As her parents gathered her up in their arms, she blinked sleepily and glared at them as she was subjected to an onslaught of kisses.

                “Daddies _no,_ ” she protested in a half-waking mumble, “I’m sleeply.”

                “I know, baby,” Shiro said, cuffing tears from the corner of his eyes. “We love you so much, go back to sleep.”

                “I love you,” Keith echoed his husband, nuzzling up against his child.

                “Daddy, your face is all _sticky_ ,” Makoto pouted, using a tiny fist to attempt to wipe away the purple Galra blood. She looked at her hand, betrayal crossing her face. “You got blueberry pancakes _without_ me?!”

                Keith burst into laughter hiding his happy tears in her hair, “No, Princess, we wouldn’t go to IHOP without you.”

                Makoto eyed them wearily, glaring at the gore smeared over their faces and clothing. She decided instead to change the subject, although both parents knew she would remember this information for later manipulation, “I think I’m a boy today.”

                “Okay sweetheart,” Keith nodded, giving his son one last kiss on the cheek and settling him back down into the blankets. “Go to sleep, I’m not leaving you.”

                Makoto pulled back his lips into a feline yawn, pawing at an itch on his ear, “Mmokay…”

                Smiling, Keith gathered up the bundle of blankets into his arms, rocking Makoto back and forth as Shiro planted a final kiss to Mako’s cheek and stood to speak with Pidge. Keith felt a creeping feeling on his head and glared up at Lance, who was staring at him with a funny expression on his face.

                “ _What_?” Keith demanded irritably.

                “Why are you wearing a bloody racing jacket?” Lance asked, eyes furrowed in absolute befuddlement.

                Keith stared at him for ten solid seconds before looking down to his front, and then over to the high-necked black shirt Shiro was sporting, equally soaked, “No reason.”

                “Uh huh,” Lance nodded, completely unconvinced.

                ‘ _He probably thinks I’m some sort of sexual deviant_ ,” Keith surmised, a grin creeping onto his lips. ‘ _Good.’_

                The early morning brightened into day, filled with police officers, emergency clean-up crews, and a host of alien ambassadors to earth. His sleeping child held in one arm, Keith went over the information Pidge had managed to extract from the first sniper, turning the documentation over to Allura and then to police for perusal.

                “You have something on your, ah—,” Allura gestured to the corner of her mouth and then to her entire front. “ _Everything_ Keith.”

                “I’ll worry about it later,” Keith said, extracting his replacement hailer from his pocket and dialing up the Galran embassy.

                Pidge’s information had belied something much deeper than a simple abduction plot. As luck would have it, the very Galran aristocrats Keith had clashed with several years later had once been avid supporters of the empire, hence the initial tension. But their resentment had grown over time as the Galra-occupied spaces across the galaxy were liberated and their assets were returned to their rightful owners. It had been decided that the quickest remedy to their problem would be kidnapping one of the ambassadors of the Voltron Alliance and his child in order to bargain for their reclaimed “property”. The assassins had been part of the massive remains of the Galra military, a co-ops group who took cheap assignments and performed as sloppily as their low pay promised.

                It was no surprise that there were still loyalists to Zarkon spread throughout the Galaxy, but it had been years since there had last been any sort of move against the Voltron Alliance. Keith felt awful for letting his guard down, and horrified that it had implicated his and Shiro’s child.

                The moment they returned home, Shiro had dragged Makoto’s little bed into the master bedroom and positioned it hugged close to the wall running alongside their bed, the pair having decided to keep them close until the incident had completely blown over. The sense of security was all for Shiro and Keith’s sakes however. Despite the inevitable trauma, Makoto seemed to be coping relatively well – loud noises scared them and they would often wake up multiple times a night complaining of nightmares. In addition, they became absolutely inseparable from their parents, especially Shiro, who was beginning to fear that he was enabling the behavior by clinging to them in turn.

                But the child psychologist they sought out after the event was quick to assuage their fears, citing these new behaviors as being typical results of a traumatic event for a child Makoto’s age and on the less severe side. He encouraged Shiro and Keith to create a safe environment to talk to Makoto about the event, and provided tips for them to assure the child of their safety.

                But despite the new behaviors, Makoko went on with her playing as they usually did, lining their Kaiju toys up in a circle around them to read the _Aristocats_ book to them multiple times a day until they eventually grew tired of the book and took up a new favorite. At this time, their parents thanked every known entity in the universe and subsequently squired _The Aristocats_ away on a very, very high shelf.

                One day, several weeks after the incident, Makoto was hosting one of these events, presenting an unabridged version of _Dogzilla_ to her gallery of kaiju figures.

                “‘ _An’ suddenly_ ’!” they declared to their toys as they read from the picture book, spelling out the difficult words, “‘ _Up from the very deh-deepahts of the earth came the most terifaying cratur ever kuh-nown to moose kind! The dreedful DOGZILLA_ ’!”

                Makoto turned the book to face the plastic models, displaying a picture of a corgi bursting out of the opening of a volcano, following by the child’s best impression of barking.

                Shiro was sitting nearby on the couch, attempting to read a book of his own, but constantly being distracted by his child’s antics. He couldn’t stop staring over the top of the volume and smiling at them as they gathered their new Morthra plushie into the crook of their arm, pointing at the pictures as they read and describing what they saw.

                “And this is the Big Cheese an’ his tank,” Makoto informed the toy, thrusting a finger at the book.

                Keith entered the living room from the kitchen, kneeling down at Makoto’s side and ruffling their hair, “Hi sweetie, how’re you doing?”

                “Good,” Makoto replied, setting their toy and book down on their play mat and presenting their cheek for a kiss. Laughing, Keith obliged and scooped the child up, carrying them over to the couch Shiro was sitting on. Shiro set his book aside, wrapping an arm around Keith’s shoulder.

                “We wanted to talk to you about something really important sweetie,” Keith began, brushing a lock of grey hair about of Makoto’s face. The toddler’s expression quickly clouded over in anxiety.

                “Do I gotta talk about the bad guys again?” they asked, twisting their little fingers together.

                “No honey, you don’t have to unless you want to,” Shiro soothed, rubbing their shoulder consolingly. “Remember when we said we had a surprise for you?”

                “No,” Makoto replied, completely moon-eyed. “Are we going to Disneyland?”

                Keith snorted, shaking his head ‘no’; Shiro laughed, doing the same, “No, but I think it’s just as exciting?”

                “What could be as exciting as _Disneyland_?” Makoto asked incredulously, as if they could not fathom such a thing.

                “Remember when we told you about how before a baby is born, it has to grow in its parent’s tummy?” Keith inquired in lieu of a response. Makoto stared suspiciously between them.

                “Yes…” they said slowly.

                “Well,” said Keith, exchanging a happy glance with Shiro. “I have a baby growing in mine right now.”

                Makoto’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and they all but reared away from Keith, “ _What?_ ”

                “You’re going to be a big sibling,” Shiro confirmed. Makoto’s surprise quickly morphed into unabashed joy. They threw themselves into Keith’s arms, squealing with happiness.

                “I get a baby sister?!” Makoto gasped, pulling away from Keith and peppering his cheek with tiny kisses.

                “Or brother – or they could be like you,” Keith explained, grinning over the onslaught of affection.

                “Daddy’s having a baby!” Makoto repeated, still completely incredulous. “Right _now_?”

                Both of their parents laughed.

                “God, I hope not,” Keith grinned.

                “No, they need a few months to grow – they’ll be here around springtime,” Shiro supplied.

                “A _baby_ ,” It seemed like Makoto couldn’t process anything else. They propped their chin on Keith’s shoulder, eyes scrunched in concentration as a confused frown overtook their face. “Wait, how’d a baby get in your tummy, Daddy?”

                Shiro paled and began to stutter out the most child-friendly response he could muster while Keith looked at his child and said, completely point-black: “We had sex.”

                “ _Keith!_ ” that made a million and one.

                “What’s sex?” Makoto quipped, looking completely bewildered.

                “ _Oh my God_ ,” Shiro groaned into the cup of his palms, burying his face there for good measure.

                “It’s a game you can’t play until you’re grown up,” Keith explained, as if this were the simplest clarification in the world.

                “Like poker?” Makoto compared.

                “Something like that,” Keith said with a shrug.

                The rest of the evening was filled with a barrage of questions, dinner occupied completely by Makoto’s suggestions for names. By the end of dinner, Makoto had decided that the best possible name for their new sibling was Megalon, with Dogora as a close second.

                Keith said they’d think about it.

                Despite weary protestations against bedtime, Makoto was absolutely exhausted by the end of the day, having been completely abuzz after hearing the news.

                “I wanna see the baby’s picture again, Tou-san,” Makoto mumbled into Shiro’s shoulder before he settled them down into their bed.

                “I’ll tell you what, I’ll print out a copy of the sonogram and you can show it to everyone once you go back to preschool,” Shiro told them, kneeling beside the bed and kissing Makoto’s forehead.

                “Okay…” Makoto replied, eyes already closed as they drifted to sleep. Smiling softly, Shiro stroked their hair one last time before double-checking the locks on the windows and leaving the master bedroom for the living room.

                Keith was propped up on the couch watching some inane show on television, but upon spotting Shiro, he sat up straight and switched it off, smiling.

                “How’d it go?” he asked, scooting to the side of the couch so that his husband could cuddle up beside him. Shiro readjusted Keith so that he was tucked in close to his chest.

                “They were almost completely passed out by the time I got them out of the bath,” he smiled, leaning his head against Keith’s.

                “Thank God,” the red paladin muttered in relief, causing Shiro to chuckle in response.

                “How are you feeling?” Shiro asked, absentmindedly reaching to the small distention of Keith’s stomach and smoothing a palm over it.

                “Gross,” Keith grunted, settling his hand over Shiro’s. “My feet are already so swollen that I couldn’t get my shoes on this morning. I forgot how fun it was being pregnant.”

                “Sorry,” Shiro replied, nuzzling Keith apologetically and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

                Keith shook his head, tilting his chin so that Shiro could press kisses down the column of his throat, “Mm, no. It’s fine. I mean, it’s _kind of_ worth it in the end.”

                “Just a little,” Shiro agreed with a smile, tilting his head so that Keith could trail his fingertips down his throat.

                Keith slowly retracted his hand, bending to press his forehead against his husband’s chest. Shiro’s arms immediately encircled him, the prosthetic whirring comfortably in his ear.

                “I’m terrified,” Keith admitted softly. “For both Makoto and the new baby.”

                “I know,” agreed Shiro, kissing the area between Keith’s ears. “I’m scared, too.”

                “I don’t regret it,” Keith spoke up, raising his head. “I could _never_ regret either of them, but…”

                He trailed off, pulling away from Shiro and turning his head away.

                “I feel selfish,” Keith said very softly. “For bringing them into a world where they’re always in danger. But I love having a family, Takashi – it’s all I _ever_ wanted.”

                Shiro cupped his husband’s cheek, Keith turning his face into his palm and pushing his lips up against it.

                “I don’t think you’re selfish for wanting that,” Shiro told him, drawing Keith close once again and resuming stroking his stomach. “ _Especially_ not you Keith – you deserve a family more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

                He looked away, guilty.

                “I think _I’m_ the selfish one,” said the black paladin, “The reason Makoto’s anxiety is so bad is because of me, and the way I responded to that incident isn’t helping.”

                “Hey,” Keith said, brow furrowed in concern. He took Shiro by the jaw and turned him to face him. “You are _not_ selfish. Any parent would be beyond shaken.’

                He released Shiro’s jaw, settling his hand back on top of Shiro’s that rested on his stomach, “You’re doing so well setting a good example for them, Shiro. You’ve done everything you can.”

                “I just feel like it isn’t enough, you know?” Shiro admitted. “No matter now good of an example I try to set for them or how hard I work on my PTSD, it’s always going to be there.”

                Keith sighed, smoothing his thumb over the rough back of Shiro’s palm, “Well I think you’re doing an amazing job.”

                “I think _you’re_ doing an amazing job,” Shiro’s expression brightened with a smile, and they exchanged a kiss.

                “You forget that we’re here to balance each other out,” Keith settled into the couch, snuggling closer to Shiro.

                “I’m almost offended,” his husband teased, kissing a fluffy ear. “I could never forget you’re here by my side.”“You are such a sap,” Keith grinned, eyes closed in contentment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all she wrote! The first part of this chapter was probably one of my favorite things to write ever. Hopefully the Norwegian is correct? I got it from a 'dirty Norwegian' website rather than google translate, so I hope that helps. Now would probably be a good time to mention that I HC Shiro as mixed-race Japanese and Norwegian. 
> 
> I hope to have brought a few smiles to you today! Shiro and Keith's little family is so precious to me! If you all liked this maybe I'll write a little bit more about them in the future! Or maybe about some stuff that happened in the interim? But for now, that's it for this little series -- I had an absolute blast writing it. I spent the majority of the time writing it cackling like a crazy person and I simply couldn't stop my fingers from flying across the keyboard. Voltron is a wonderful show and you guys are wonderful readers!
> 
> Much love!


End file.
